


and it's me & you

by lesliesbknope



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesliesbknope/pseuds/lesliesbknope
Summary: “Profiting off True Love sounds like something the Crocodile would get up to. Or does get up to, I suppose.”Killian and Emma celebrate their first Valentine's day.





	and it's me & you

Emma turns to him, the floorboards of the  _Jolly_  creaking gently under her weight, brow quirked. “Present? I thought we agreed on no presents.” She raises his flask and takes a sip of rum, feeling the dark liquor burn smoothly down her throat.

“Aye, we did, love,” Killian nods, a small smirk appearing on his features. “But I promise this is only a small gesture. A token of my appreciation, I suppose. It isn’t even related to the holiday.”

Valentine’s Day had made its way through Storybrooke with the speed of the magic flare of a broken curse. Hearts popped up in store windows, seemingly out of nowhere,  _Game of Thorns_ had seen an increase in sales and deliveries in the last few days, and even Henry had been mulling over what to get Violet for the holiday, stressing just as much as he would for a math test.

It isn’t Emma’s favorite holiday, not in the slightest. She’s never cared for it, but then again, she’s never been  _in love_  over Valentine’s Day, and all of her past prospects had… well, sucked.

Until now, that is. At least, that’s what her mother reminded her of over a pancake-breakfast.

–

(“He’s never celebrated either! Think of how much fun it will be.”

“Mom, we’re not you and dad. As nauseatingly cute as you are.”

“No, you’re cuter.”)

–

She’d huffed as she left for the station that morning, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Because maybe they didn’t have to be as cheesy as everyone else, especially when  **True Love™**  meant they didn’t need one day to express the strength of their love, but maybe she and Killian could at least enjoy the day together without monsters and dragons and whatever else evil could have in store for the Savior.

So she’d brought it up to him when they’d had lunch together that afternoon.

–

“A day for true love?” Killian asks, dipping an onion ring before taking a bite.

Emma swallows the bit of her grilled cheese she’d been chewing, shaking her head in response. “Mm… not exactly? I mean, I guess it would be in our case, but it’s meant to be a  _Hallmark_  holiday…”

“You’re saying that like a hallmark anything isn’t a good thing.” He quirks a brow.

“In this context,  _Hallmark_  is a company,” she explains. “They created this holiday so they could profit off the gifts and cards people would purchase to prove their love to someone. It was more for their own personal gain than it was for love itself.”

“Huh,” he muses thoughtfully, pushing a way a stack of papers on her desk with his hook before they fall into the dipping sauce. “Profiting off True Love sounds like something the Crocodile would get up to. Or does get up to, I suppose.”

Emma snorts. “Yeah, I guess  _Hallmark_  does have Gold tendencies…” she chuckles and he smiles at her. “That’s funnier than you realize. Wait until I show you their label…” she shakes her head. “The point is, I’ve never had a good Valentine’s Day, and neither have you, granted you didn’t know about it until now, so I thought we could… I don’t know, join the bandwagon and celebrate that we finally can?”

Killian’s smile widens a bit, blue eyes suddenly brighter than usual. “I’d like that, Swan.”

She grins, excitement suddenly bubbling inside her. “Oh! No presents.”

His brow furrows and he drops the onion ring he’d picked up. “No presents? But I thought you said–”

“I know what I said. But we–” She motions between them. “–won’t do presents. I don’t want it to be a big deal.”

–

It’d taken a bit of coaxing, and a deal between them. No presents if he got to plan the evening.

It’s how they end up on the  _Jolly Roger,_  sailing out for the afternoon before sharing dinner at sunset. Storybrooke is unusually warm for February, allowing them to be on the water without freezing their asses off. And it’s simple enough that it doesn’t feel like any day out of the ordinary, and yet it’s beautiful, and Emma feels… well, giddy.

She always seems to feel that way when it comes to Killian Jones, even when he fails to keep up his end of the deal.

She folds her arms, unable to help the smile on her face. “Fine. But I kept up my end of the bargain and actually didn’t get you anything so…”

He waves his left arm, hook in the air. “That’s hardly a problem, Swan.” His hand finds her free one, allowing her to finish her next sip of rum before he begins to walk, leading her with him toward the entrance to his quarters down below.

“Wait,” she stops short, the smile on her face turning into something a bit more knowing. “Did you get me a present, or did you get me a  _present_?” Her brow quirks again as she gives him a once over.

The smirk on his features tells her nothing, and he keeps leading her toward the entrance, letting go of her hand to pull the door open. He motions for her to head inside, following her a moment later.

There are flowers on his desk, a bright yellow bouquet of buttercups in water standing out among what’s left of his things on board. She walks over to them, bending down to take a whiff and smiles. “Are these for me?”

Killian nods. “They are. I thought you’d like them.” He motions to his wrist, as if to remind her of the lone buttercup that sits on her own.

“You’re right, I do like them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He walks over to the desk, and Emma stands on her toes to press her lips to his. “But that isn’t your present.”

Her brows furrow. “No?”

Shaking his head, he grabs a brown leather portfolio just beside the flowers, and tugs on the string holding the top and bottom part together. Once he’s untied it, he hands it to her, pulling open the lid and pulling out a small stack of papers and resting them on top.

Emma’s jaw drops, a gasp, barely audible, escaping her. She has to blink a few times at the sight before her. “Killian… what–” she glances up at him, and his hand finds that place behind his ear, giving in to that stubborn nervous tick of his. He’s visibly flustered, ears a bright shade of red as he keeps his eyes trained on the papers in her hands.

“It has been quite a while since we’ve… or rather, since I moved into your home.”

“Our home,” she corrects.

“Right,” his lip quirks. “Our home. And well, I’ve noticed that our walls don’t have much by way of artwork or family photos in the way your parents’ home does, or even Regina’s,” he tells her. “So I thought maybe we could…” he trails off.

“You made these?” Emma asks, trailing her hands over the corners of the paper, careful to not smudge with the charcoal.

He nods. “Aye.”

Artwork. He  _made_  artwork. For their home.

Staring back at him is an elaborate sketch of her in her red leather jacket sitting at what looks to be the corner booth at Granny’s. There’s a cup in her hands, a smooth swirl over the top and light sprinkles over it. Henry sits beside her, a cup of his own sitting in front of him and the two of them are laughing, their features so defined you’d think he’d traced a photo of them.

“Hot cocoa with cinnamon,” she mutters gently tracing over the whipped cream.

She picks it up, and underneath is one of her with Henry, her parents, baby Neal, and even Regina at the loft, sitting around the table over dinner. It’s drawn in a similar fashion, lines pressed carefully and yet deliberately to paper. “Killian, these are… incredible.”

She’s in awe, really. Just amazed by his talent. She’s known he’d dabbled in art at various points in his long life, but she’d thought it’d been just a hobby not something as brilliant as this.

She flips over to the next one, and this one is just her, leaning back against her bug, coffee cup held in both hands. Her eyes are glued to her boots and her expression is pensive.

“But how did you…?”

“I observed. You always catch my eye, but these are moments in which you have been at your most striking, and I just wasn’t able to look away. I tried my best to commit them to memory, and went from there,” he explains. “The ones of your parents took a bit more work, but in all of the times they’ve come over for breakfast recently, I’ve been able to get down the details.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” she tells him, blinking a few times as her eyes sting. “When did you even get this done? We’re together and  _busy_  practically all of the time.

“Where do you think I’ve disappeared to all those early mornings?” he teases, lip quirked. “Our garden needed tending, but not nearly as often as I’ve led you to believe.”

Emma gives him a stern look, but he barely believes her, before her eyes are back on the sketches before her.

“Wait, but where are you…?” Flipping the last one, she finds the answer to her question.This last one is them.

They’re on the  _Jolly_  in that one, she can tell by the sails, and the hints of the bow she can see. Her hair is long and wild and flowing, the sea in the distance, and he stands behind her, arms wrapped around her. His face isn’t visible, buried in the crook of her neck, but his hair, the shape of his frame, and his hook are unmistakable. Her smile is wide and full, and she looks almost caught off guard in it. Blissful.  _They_  look blissful.

“Wow,” she whispers breathlessly. “We have to buy frames for these.”

“You truly like them.” It’s a statement more than a question.

“Like them? Killian, I  _love_  them.” She sets the sketches down on his desk before she’s wrapping both arms around him. “This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever gotten me… Thank you.”

He smiles down at her. “You’re most welcome, love. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from my tumblr because I'm deleting that for a while. This was from an anonymous prompt: “I got you a present.”


End file.
